Just a Dream
by Skeren Dreamera
Summary: Nothing ever works out for Edward in the end, does it?


**Title:** Just a Dream**  
Author:** Skeren Dreamera**  
Warnings:** It's not for people who are easily disturbed.**  
Notes:** I felt the need to write something for Valentines Day. I hope you enjoy it. Inspired by Laylah R.

Step, turn. Step, turn. Spin. He closed his eyes tightly, pretending it was a dance. He pretended there was nothing to see. There was no blood scoring the walls. There was no body lying so close by as that haunting music continued to play. No, he'd dance and pretend it wasn't happening.

Bloody blond hair was unbound from its normally tidy braid, falling across tightly closed eyes. He wouldn't see. He wouldn't see what he had done. He'd shatter if he saw the bodies of the people lying around him.

Step, turn. Step, pace, turn the other way. The music drew to a halt, as did Edward. He clenched his gloved hands tightly, refusing to open his eyes. He could feel the clammy texture of the wet uniform against him, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to remember what he'd become.

It was Valentines Day. Nothing was allowed to be bad on this day. So he repeated to himself over and over as he started to tremble. He wasn't fighting today. He hadn't been, and he swore to himself that it was so. He'd pretend that day hadn't happened.

No uniform had been forced on him the week before, no, that was merely a delusion. He wasn't wearing a blood soaked uniform now. He was dressed as he'd been before his brother was discovered... Yes.

Yes, that was what it was. He took a deep breath as another song started, and he steadfastly clung to his fantasy as the smell of blood rushed him, and a disturbingly unhinged smile crossed his face.

He'd been playing pretend. There was no battle being fought! It was all in his mind.

He started to move again with the music, dancing alone in that hypnotic step, turn, step, turn. His eyes opened but he didn't see the carnage, completely oblivious to the reds that surrounded him from the people he'd killed not long before midnight.

He was oblivious to the gunshots ringing just outside the half-demolished building, and a sweet smile crossed his bloodstained face. It was just a bad dream. It would be gone when he woke up, and his little brother would be there to calm him down.

Yes, he'd just enjoy the music. Alphonse hadn't been killed just after he'd been returned to a body, that had been a nightmare too. He was just off visiting with Winry. Nodding to himself over his fractured logic, he turned a little too far in his step, stumbling in the blood.

He caught himself quickly though, a bemused smile crossing his face before a little titter left his lips. If he fell, he'd have to start again. His mother always said that it was bad luck to not dance the entire set on Valentines day.

So he and Alphonse had done that, much to the embarrassment of their Sensei, but it was okay. It would all be okay. It was just a dream. But even in dreams you must hold up tradition. Even if his little brother was away with Winry, then he'd do it anyway.

Another giggle crossed his lips as he finally finished, looking around the war carnage that surrounded him. He didn't know why others with his uniform were there among the enemy. If it was his dream, then why would they be dead? He wandered over, brushing bloody bangs away from his face as he knelt beside Mustang where he'd fallen.

A stained glove reached out as he hummed softly to himself, and he brushed the man's bangs away from his face, ignoring the sightless eyes. It was just a dream, just a dream. He'd wake up and he'd have Al curled up beside him. Mustang would be fine too, just as annoying as ever.

Maybe he was still dreaming? Yes, he'd been dreaming the last three years. It was all just a bad dream that would go away soon.

He never even blinked when he heard the steps behind him, clapping sharply before setting his hands to the wooden floor. Edward smiled as the steps were stopped, and he didn't even hear the scream from one of his fellow officers.

He turned back to Mustang, shaking his head a little as he smoothed out the tattered uniform, smearing the blood.

Everything would be fine. It was Valentines day. Nobody died on that day. Certainly not Alphonse, and not Mustang either. It was just a dream.

His voice was a singsong when he finally spoke. "See? As soon as I wake up, it'll be just fine."

Owari.


End file.
